Solace
by Kristanci
Summary: Marcus and Anya find some time to talk about things other than the war. What she asks of him later will ultimately change their relationship, but the answer she receives is all the more surprising.


Lieutenant Anya Stroud filled her mug with mediocre coffee for the fourth time today. She hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, but she couldn't find one moment to rest her eyes. The Locust raids were relentless, continuing day in day out, testing the breaking point of every single soldier of the COG army, intelligence included. She had just helped Delta find shelter in a nearby Stranded encampment. Luckily, the Stranded there weren't as hostile toward Delta because they had helped fend off another Locust assault, so the boys were able to find a place of rest for the night. It had been two hours since their last transmission, so she was hoping that Delta was finally catching up on the rest they desperately needed.

She made her way back to the control room, passing by several of her friends. She gave them a halfhearted smile and wave which they returned and headed off toward their destination. No one wanted to say it. Everyone had the same thought in their heads. As much as they were fighting, what was the genuine percentage of the chance they had to survive? The Locusts severely outnumbered them, so they had to come up with a plan to neutralize them at the heart of their territory. But who could do it? Who would _want _to do it? If the masses were overwhelming on the surface, how many Locusts were there underground?

She pulled out her chair to take a seat, but Hoffman stopped her. "You look like you could use some sleep, lieutenant. Take a couple hours," he said. It wasn't often that he showed concern for her well-being. He wasn't a cold hearted man, but he was a soldier, so his focus was on directing his troops and offering assistance.

"You sure?" she asked, brows raised. The thought of sleep was already affecting her body. Her eyes were tired, and she had already received several mini heart attacks earlier today because of Marcus' unorthodoxed maneuvers to carry out orders.

"Yeah, I'll take it from here," the older man said. He didn't smile, but he pulled the chair away from her and stood waiting for her departure.

"Thank you," Anya smiled at him. She set down her cup of coffee by her station. "This cup is on me." He gave her a sharp nod then she headed toward the quarters she was assigned to. She closed the door behind her, turned off the lights, and sat down on a small bunk bed. As uncomfortable as it was, she had to remember that Marcus and his team were probably sleeping on the hard, rocky ground, mostly likely in a place that was hardly as secure as her room. It wasn't until she let her hair loose that she realized she was still wearing her headset. Having the plastic instrument around her head was just as normal as putting on a shirt for her.

She never took it off; it was a habit she enforced upon herself. At any moment, she could be needed, so she made it a point to always have her headset at the ready. One thing she had learned long ago when she signed up was that things hardly went according to plan. Anya leaned back, resting her back against the wall and pulling her legs up onto the bed. Her muscles tingled from fatigue, and she felt the tension in her joints relax. She let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her tired eyes. "What a day…"

"Something happen?" came a static voice. Delta leader, Marcus Fenix.

"Marcus?" she asked. From the corner of her eyes she saw a dull green light flashing from her earpiece. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was still connected to your line." She had thought she was disconnected from all of Delta's private lines when she left her station. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"You're one to ask," came the reply. "How long has it been since you slept? A good twenty-four hours?"

She laughed lightly. "Try thirty-five plus. How are things on your end? Did you manage to find somewhere to regroup?"

She heard a crumbing crash when Marcus' deep voice filled her ears. "If you could call it that, yeah."

"Good," she said quietly. Delta's current location was infested with Kryll and the sunset was disappearing into nightfall. She worried for their safety, but she knew better than most that they could take care of themselves. She sniffed, inhaling a sharp breath. Her eyes traveled to the bunk bed across from hers. "Jason Demaria…" she whispered sadly.

"Who?"

She could recall an image of a tall young man, dark hair, but light eyes full of determination and enthusiasm. "COG soldier, twenty-three years of age, son to James Demaria who fought in the Pendulum Wars. He… he died yesterday. Locust ambush." Anya allowed her head to fall but not the tears. She received the news earlier today, and it left her in a state of shock. That's what happened when you became good friends with someone. "Good guy, would have made an excellent addition to your team."

She heard Marcus grunt. There was no way to tell what kind of expression he wore, but she knew him well enough that the silence was out of respect. He was probably waiting for her to say something else. For the last few years, casual conversation was thrown out the window for her. She didn't know how to respond if someone asked her how she was, never really knew how to answer questions that didn't deal with the war. It was a rarity that she ever had personal time off, so she might as well make the most of it. "Marcus… personal question."

"Here we go," he said shortly, but he didn't reprimand her.

"If the Locusts never appeared, if these wars didn't happen, where do you think you would have ended up?" she asked, playing with the tips of her hair.

"Oh I don't know," he started in attempted humor. "Married, have dozens of kids that would probably have grown up to be bookworms." He paused for a moment. When he continued, his voice was more serious. "That's almost impossible to answer, Anya. It's tough to think of life when all you see death."

How very true. She had seen more than her share on the various screens in the control tower. Bodies were torn apart, people were crying out for help, corpses lay scattered over the streets and roads they surveyed. She didn't need to be there in person for the utter horror to creep through her body. The last thing she wanted was for this conversation to turn depressing. "Oh, I don't know, I think your children would have turned out quite handsome, scars and all," she lightly joked.

"Heh, I guess there's something about scars that attract a woman," Marcus said.

"They aren't so bad on you," Anya admitted. "How many do you have anyway?"

Silence. Had she crossed the line? Perhaps, the conversation had taken a turn from being platonic to overly friendly creating an uncomfortable tension.

"Eight," he answered. "Had to think about it for a second. Believe it or not, most of them I got from screwing around with dad's experiments."

"The one on your cheek?" she asked out of curiosity. It was the most dominating feature he had on his face, and she had always wanted to ask him about it.

"Locust grabbed at my head. Almost tore it clean off had it not been for my father," he said. "Was a fan of ranged combat for a while."

Anya laughed; it was unlike Marcus to attempt a joke. She could hear him chuckling as well. Sometimes, she believed he didn't know how to laugh, but the more she spoke to him, the more she found the human side of the soldier. "I feel guilty at times," she said when her giggle fit had died down.

"For?"

"You and the other Gears are out there fighting for your lives, protecting us as well as yourselves. You're fighting for our survival, and here I am sitting here within secure walls, watching my friends and comrades die while I do nothing but punch in a few buttons and read you maps and coordinates." Deep down, she knew it was nonsense, but there were so many times where she wanted to avenge her friends, yet she lacked the capability.

"Anya, tell me you're fucking kidding me," Marcus said roughly. "Do you know how many times you saved our asses over here? You're Delta's eyes and ears; we'd be completely defenseless without you. Don't sell yourself short, you got that?"

Anya smiled; Marcus' strong points were in tactical combat not comforting and consoling a woman, but when he made an attempt, especially if it was for her, she felt warmed. "Thank you, Marcus."

"Anytime, runt," he shot back.

Anya's smile grew bigger. "I think I could take you if you didn't have your Gears armor."

She heard another chuckle from him. "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that small fry."

They shared a laugh together, enjoying the moment. It was refreshing to be able to talk to him like this. Of course, it wasn't nearly as open as she would have liked, but it was nice, seeing, hearing this side of him. She glanced over to Jason's bed, and that dark feeling washed over her again. Even though she kept all of her focus on keeping her soldiers alive, there was a lingering sadness deep in her that tended to creep out every now and then. Negative thoughts sometimes filled her mind, but no matter how much she tried to push them out, they always lingered, impossible to block out.

She absentmindedly toyed with the thick metallic medallions that hung loosely below her collar bone. One side was plain, just a smooth sheet of a metal surface, but the other side had her ID number, rank and name etched into it. "Marcus, promise me something."

"Whatever you want," he said simply, surprising her. She wasn't expecting such a quick reply.

But his honest answer encouraged her to move forward. "If something happens to me, if I don't make it…" she started. Her eyes became watery, but she refused to break down here and now. "Promise me, you'll be the one that holds onto my tags. That you'll be the one they're delivered to."

He didn't say anything to her, and that she expected. It wasn't easy asking someone to bear your memory in case you died, but what were the chances of survival at this point? Jacinto was their last stronghold, the last line of defense for mankind as a whole. She didn't like to think of her own death, but it was a high possibility, and it was a possibility she had to accept. She at least wanted to be in the memory of someone she highly respected and cared for.

Had someone asked Anya about what she thought of Marcus Fenix when they first met, it would have been a negative answer. He had a reputation of disobeying direct orders, and Hoffman's opinion of him was hardly favorable. She would hate to admit it, but it affected how she originally perceived the sergeant. But the more she saw of Marcus Fenix, the more she realized how wrong she was to have judged him.

Marcus cared greatly for his team even when they argued and had disputes about direction and execution. He had great leadership skills and he always used the optimum offense and defense when engaging the enemy. She found herself wishing with all of her being that nothing would happen to Delta squad. Perhaps, her attraction to Marcus wasn't such a bad thing. It made her step up to the plate to ensure Delta's safety. She brought her hand up to lightly touch her headset. "Is it all right that my tags be sent to you should anything happen to me?" she repeated.

"Okay," he finally told her. She breathed out a sigh of relief. He could never fully understand how comforting it was to her, knowing that he would willingly keep a piece of her with him if she passed on. "On one condition," he added.

She blinked in surprise. "Oh? Of course."

"I'll only promise that if you promise to do the same for me."

There was nothing that could have prepared her for that answer. She allowed one tear to fall down her cheek. Just in those few words did she find great happiness. "You got yourself a deal, solider."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, I'm going to get some shut eye, and I suggest you do same. Can't have you leading us off a cliff or to a dead end tomorrow," he said. She heard him shuffling around, probably trying to rest in a comfortable position.

"I'm about to take a nap," she smiled. "Good night, Marcus, and thank you."

"Night," he replied. "And Anya."

"Yes?"

"That's the last time I hear you talk about dying, you hear me? Marcus, out." The static was silenced.

Anya slid down the length of the bed and nestled into the thin pillow she had successfully crushed during the long conversation. She rested her arm over her eyes, and for the first time in years, she didn't see monsters in the dark.

AN: All right, I know I've been throwing out a bunch of one-shots in the last couple days, but I figure to get them out now before I forget them. Also, since they're a little short, I figure I'd spoil readers with several short fics to make up for the lack of a novella. Hope you guys enjoyed.


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